


Secretly laughing, secretly crying

by winehwan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Car Accidents, M/M, Memory Loss, Model Xu Ming Hao | The8, Vet Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Wen Jun Hui | Jun is a Sweetheart, i'm pretty sure i hinted at jun being a bottom in here, soft as fuck i can't even fathom, will be M rated after later updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-12-26 16:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winehwan/pseuds/winehwan
Summary: The thought of losing six years worth of memories doesn't bother Minghao all that much. Maybe because he's still here, in this uncomfortable hospital gown, eating disgusting hospital food, groaning internally as his back or hip clicks in disapproval when he moves the slightest bit. He hasn't been faced with his twenty-seven year old life yet. In his mind, he's still a twenty-one year old, still freshly graduated out of college and still struggling to find a place that doesn't leak absolutely everywhere and forces Junhui out of his bed and into Minghao's, sleepily complaining about the cold.orminghao is involved in a car accident and forgets the past six years of his life and junhui just wants to crawl into a hole and die but he's a sweetheart about it





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i know this is rated T right now but i 100% guarantee i'll change it to M later. i will be writing quite ~sensitive~ topics such as eating disorders and there's probably going to be slightly more detailed sexy times. there'll definitely be more angst later on but for now this is the first chapter!!!! hope you enjoy <3

The first thing Minghao feels when he wakes up is the searing pain in his abdomen and the numbness in his limbs.

The first thing he sees is the back of a man he vaguely recognises in his drowsy state. Said man turns to him, wet-faced and crying, and he's saying something but Minghao can't hear the man because of the loud ringing in his ears. He looks sad, in pain as if he's in Minghao's position himself.  _This is Junhui,_  his mind provides.  _Ah, yes, of course._ How could he forget about Junhui? Best friend and roommate of two years, Wen Junhui.

He hears shouting, like someone's yelling commands but he can't make it out and it's all muffled because it sounds like his head is six feet underwater. Junhui stops in his tracks even though it looks like he doesn't want to but Minghao keeps moving forward, and he turns his head upwards to see Junhui visibly shaking, hands pulled up to his face to muffle his cries. On one of his hands, Minghao sees something catch in the light, and he identifies it as a wedding ring.  _Huh, when did Junhui get married?_ He reminds himself to ask Junhui about it later on.

It crosses Minghao's mind briefly that it feels like he's being pushed on some sort of hospital bed but then the bed hits something and jerks like they've busted through a barrier of sorts. A door, it seems. He tries calling for Junhui from behind the door but his eyelids suddenly feel like they're being weighed down and Minghao doesn't think he has the energy in him to fight it.

 

 

 

 

Beeping. Antibiotics. White lights. Tubes. An oxygen mask over his mouth.

His eyelids lift, but he immediately wishes they didn't as he's promptly assaulted by bright light. Straining to get used to it, he tries to sit up, but groans and settles for trying some other time. He registers someone calling for a doctor and then there's something—or rather, someone—blocking the light. His blurry vision rests upon the tear-stained, blotchy and pale visage of his best friend. 

"Minghao," he breathes out gratefully. Minghao scans his face, scans  _him_ , and it feels like it's been years since the last time he saw Junhui. The washed out, oversized sweater Junhui's adorning is a lot rattier than the last time Minghao remembers seeing it. 

It feels like just yesterday when Minghao got it for him.

It was Junhui's twenty-first birthday. Minghao was nineteen years old at the time, and Minghao had seen him eyeing the sweater online for a ridiculous amount of time before that. When Minghao asked him about it, Junhui had said it was too expensive and that he was merely window shopping anyway. "You shouldn't have," Junhui said when he pulled it out of the box, but it didn't look like he was going to give it up as he clutched it to his chest. "I wanted to," Minghao simply replied.

"Hey." Minghao lifts his hand in a futile wave, making Junhui gasp in horror. "Don't move, Haohao. You're probably in a lot of pain." Minghao _is_ in a lot of pain. 

A young woman, very pretty and petite, knocks on the door of the hospital room. The doctor probably. "Hello, boys."

"Yeeun," Junhui breathes out, relieved, (Minghao takes note that her name is Yeeun, for future reference) and steps back, allowing her to fuss over Minghao. She does a number of tests, like flashing a light to his eyes. If it went on for a little longer, Minghao's sure he would've broken out in a nervous sweat.

Minghao just wants to get out of here. The smell of medicine, the feeling of the cotton against his stomach and head and the ratty hospital gown he's wearing makes him feel more than slightly uncomfortable. He just wants to go back to his small, leaky apartment with Junhui and bitch about the pain in his back to Seungkwan. 

The doctor pulls Junhui aside and explains very, very carefully, like she's talking to a toddler. Minghao doesn't like her tone, but he listens to what she has to say anyway.

"Well, there's no easy way to say this, but I want you to know that it's in very rare cases that these things are permanent. Even if it may last for a, so to say,  _prolonged_  period of time, there's no way to say that he won't get them back." She adjusts her glasses uncomfortably. "Get what back, doctor?" Minghao feels bad for Junhui. It looks like the poor boy's going to scratch his eyes out from anticipation.

"Minghao has no recollection of the past few years of his life. I understand that this can be equally scary for the both of you, Junhui, but with time and patience, he may gain his memories back. Maybe not all of them, but most. He's got quite a curious thing called retrograde amnesia. It affects long term memories before the accident and the type of memory loss is more about losing facts rather than losing skill. For example, he may forget that he has a bike, but he won't forget how to ride it." As she says this, she pushes the thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose multiple times.

Then she turns to him.

"Minghao, you remember Junhui, right?"

He nods. Of course he does, so why do Junhui's eyes fill with something? The look has Minghao reeling. It looks like regret. Despair. Both.

"Please, you'll confuse him—"

"I have to do this, Jun. Please understand. It's for his own good."

"Yeeun, come one, that's ridiculous, we know damn well—"

"How old are you, Minghao?"

Minghao's eyes dart between the two people in the room nervously. "I-I'm twenty-one."

That makes Junhui take in a deep, audible breath. He's twisting the ring on his finger again. If Minghao had to guess, he'd say Junhui got married to that pretty boy, Yanan. "Six years, Yeeun?" Junhui says meekly. It looks like he's not so sure if he can get Minghao to remember six years' worth of memories. Yeeun doesn't say anything else to him.

"Minghao, you're twenty-seven."

Christ. Six years. Minghao can only begin to wonder what's happened in six years.

Jihoon probably asked Soonyoung out, maybe proposed to him along the way, got that job as a producer that he's always wanted. Soonyoung probably teaches dance as therapy in some studio, maybe choreographs some of Jihoon's songs. Mingyu is probably a chef somewhere, and Wonwoo most likely wakes up to Mingyu's cooking every morning. Minghao can picture how gross and soft and downright  _disgusting_  they've gotten over the years. The way Wonwoo wakes up with raging bed hair as usual, drowsily making his way to the kitchen just to greet Mingyu by slithering his hands around his waist and kissing his nape. Minghao shudders involuntarily.

Seungkwan probably sings over Jihoon's tracks, or maybe they've collaborated because Minghao remembers that Jihoon has a really nice voice. Seungkwan probably complains and groans about his day to Hansol constantly, having obviously (hopefully) worked past their stupid and unnecessary pining phase, and Hansol probably just brings him some ice cream and lets Seungkwan lie down on his lap, telling him how great he is.

Seungcheol is probably still dumb and straight. Jeonghan is probably still dumb and compartmentalizing. Jisoo is probably going to die a virgin because he'd pledged celibacy or something. 

And Junhui...

What's Junhui up to?

_Getting married, I suppose._

The thought of losing six years worth of memories doesn't bother Minghao all that much. Maybe because he's still here, in this uncomfortable hospital gown, eating disgusting hospital food, groaning internally as his back or hip clicks in disapproval when he moves the slightest bit. He hasn't been faced with his twenty-seven year old life yet. In his mind, he's still a twenty-one year old, still freshly graduated out of college and still struggling to find a place that doesn't leak absolutely everywhere and forces Junhui out of his bed and into Minghao's, sleepily complaining about the cold.

"Gosh, I'm old."

Yeeun nods.  _Wh—_

 _"_ Jihoon, Soonyoung, and Hansol visited around four days ago. Seungkwan, Wonwoo, and Mingyu came the day after and they left you a whole fucking "get better soon!" cake." Junhui laughs. "Seungcheol visited with Jisoo, and Jeonghan visited with Chan and Seokmin. They're really worried about you, Hao."

Now, that. That confuses Minghao. "Who's Chan and Seokmin?" God, is he just a terrible friend? Did he completely forget about the existence of his two friends? 

Junhui shakes his head and his hair flops with him. "You met them when you were twenty-three, so you don't remember them."

"What year is it, anyway?"

Yeeun picks herself up from where she was hunched over the desk, writing something down on a piece of paper before telling him, "It's now the thirteenth of March 2025. you've been in and out of sleep for a few days, but you were never up long enough to talk to. We had to put tubes in you so you could still get nutrition and preferably not die. Hope you don't mind."

"Do all doctors talk to their patients like this these days?"

"I'm a close friend of Junhui's." She grins. "We've met before, but you don't remember. That's okay though. My name's Jang Yeeun. It's nice to meet you for the first time again." 

That tears a laugh right out of Minghao's chest. She's funny. Minghao decides he likes her.

"Am I still wrinkly and single?" he decides to ask. Minghao eyes Junhui, as if wanting him to answer rather than Yeeun after seeing Junhui just hover around the room awkwardly as Yeeun and Minghao spoke, probably wanting them to rekindle without bothering. Junhui catches his stare, but frowns sadly and looks at Yeeun as a plead for help.

Yeeun gets it.

Her face promptly falls and Yeeun and Junhui stare at each other for a moment as if they're communicating through fucking telekinesis or something. Then Yeeun nods and turns to him. Minghao's certain he doesn't want to hear what she has to say.

Did his partner get murdered? Killed in a car crash? Did he cheat on them? Did they cheat on  _him_? Minghao's ready to make a beeline for the window if worse comes to worst.

"Actually..." She trails off, not entirely sure how to phrase it. "You—" she cuts herself off once again. She seems to grimace before deciding to suck it up.

"You and Junhui are married, Minghao."

And that's when Minghao notices a wedding ring on his finger.

 

 

 

As they leave the hospital, cloaked men and women alike swarm the entrance, huge cameras in their hold flashing away as he sees Junhui's hand (rather aggressively) pushing microphones away from behind him. He sounds polite and he's not necessarily  _shoving_  them away, but the slight furrow in his brows is a common sign that he's frustrated. The rings on their fingers sparkle with every flash of the camera.

Tall and built men, about three of them, surround him and Junhui as if a living, breathing shield, leaving Minghao with just enough room to breathe. "Please, he's still recovering," he hears Junhui say, which makes the reporter back away slightly, but then another approaches them and Junhui's effort is for naught.

When they finally make it to the car, they're panting and a bit sweaty and Junhui's cradling the back of his hand in his palm. Although Minghao's confused as fuck and has no idea what might be going on, he asks anyway, in a means to calm a slightly frantic looking Junhui, "you okay there?"

The material of the car seats is indeed very nice, but Minghao doubts that's the reason Junhui sinks into it. "I'm good."

"You got scratched." 

"And you got into an accident. Priorities, Xu Minghao, they're lovely."

Minghao chuckles but quickly frowns. "Check that out once we get home, okay?"

Junhui just nods wordlessly.

"Hao," Junhui calls when they step out of the car. Minghao just keeps on focussing on every single detail of their home.

_Their home._

_That's weird._

They've got a green lawn, a white picket fence and there are flowers in a pot hung up above the entryway. There are also some pretty flowers sitting in shoe-shaped pots on the side of the stairway leading up to their door as well as some wildflowers growing outside of their window. There are cute little lanterns planted into the soil of their lawn, and Minghao chuckles as he sees the rather peculiar garden gnomes sat around said lanterns. The walls of their home are painted a sort of washed out, pale color. 

It's oddly domestic, and it's a drastic change from their living space six years ago.

Minghao doesn't reply, obviously teetering around Junhui. Instead, he says, "we certainly got our shit together didn't we?"

Junhui blinks, then laughs, a twinkling sort of noise like the sound of bells ringing or crystal clear water dripping into a stream. "You could say that."

"So, what was with all of the reporters and paparazzi back at the hospital anyway? Are you some sort of celebrity?"

Junhui cackles at that, tossing the house keys onto a cute wooden coffee table after unlocking the door. "I'm certainly not."

It's bewildering, honestly, how homey and classy their place is. Paintings and decorations litter the wall, and Minghao's sure his eyes accidentally skimmed over a picture of a grinning Junhui in a white suit, Minghao standing beside him in an equally nice suit but black, a hand seemingly curled around Junhui's back. Maybe Minghao shouldn't look at that right now.

"So?"

"This may surprise you, but you're one of the most popular models in South Korea. I'm just a veterinarian, so people only know about me because we're together."

"I'm a _what_?"

Minghao's head turns so fast that it clicks uncomfortably, and Minghao groans as he supports himself on a wall. "Take it easy, will you? Your manager understands and she's postponed all of your appointments and photoshoots. Just focus on getting better and we'll go from there, alright?" 

Minghao tries to wrap his head around it, he really does. The fact that he's actually twenty-seven years old, isn't in university, isn't living in some shitty barely-up-to-par dorm, is a model that everybody's heard of at least once, and is married to his best friend, Wen Junhui, is something akin to mind boggling.

Really, it's not like Minghao particularly _minds_. If anything, it's a bit unfair on Junhui. The Minghao that had grown to love Junhui as more than a mere friend, reached into the crevices between Junhui's ribs, took his heart straight out of his chest and clutched it next to his own, _treated_ it like his own, isn't here anymore. The Minghao that broke down all of Junhui's walls and filters, loved him and showered him with affection without any inhibition whatsoever just isn't _him_. It's not so much that Minghao doesn't still love Junhui, he's just not _in_ love with Junhui.

It's not Minghao's fault either. It's not like he asked for his car to be hit on the way to work by some guy who can't wait until five in the evening before having one too many drinks. 

Minghao wasn't exactly looking for his soulmate at the tender age of twenty-one either, so it's not like he's at a loss. Best friends make marriage pacts all the time if they hadn't gotten married at say, thirty years old, so why should this be any different? Junhui's his best friend, they're two very attractive young males who don't even need a marriage pact to look for a partner, but they _are_ almost thirty years old and that's enough for Minghao. He'll just treat this like a marriage pact until he gets his shit together. Just two bros casually married to each other. Yeah. Okay.

So Minghao tells himself this as he (very carefully) showers, but why, when they sit down to eat dinner and Minghao notices Junhui's bandaged hand, which makes him casually throw out an "am I a good husband?" that he suddenly can't think of this like a marriage pact because it feels nothing like it?

Maybe it's in the way Junhui's eyes slightly widen, the way his lips part in surprise before curling softly, almost kittenish at the ends, the way a pretty pink blush rises high on the apple of his cheekbones against his will. "Yes, you're amazing," he looks like he so badly wants to stutter out, but Junhui settles for a shake of his head and a poorly formed "no need to think about that for now. You should take your time, Haohao."

Maybe it's in the way that, after dinner, Junhui dresses and cleans Minghao's wounds gently. Maybe a little _too_ gently, because the carefulness in the tips of Junhui's fingers actually hurts Minghao, cuts deeper than any wound and stings more than any injury. Deft, elegant fingers dance on his skin a bit too lingeringly, leaving trails of burning hot love all over Minghao, fizzling, the remnants warm and soft, just like Junhui.

Maybe it's in the way that Junhui's gaze is too soft, too tender, too overbearingly loving. Maybe the way that Junhui's so warm and caring, smiling at him in that way that even the twenty-one year old Minghao all those years ago thought was painfully beautiful.

Without being in love with Junhui, Minghao can still understand why he had fallen for him along the way, and that's weird. Twenty-one year old Minghao would never think like that. But then again, with that being said, maybe, somehow, there's still a remnant of _Minghao_ somewhere in there, the Minghao that's so irrevocably in love with Junhui to the point that it _aches_.

Maybe it's the way that all of that makes Minghao's mind wander to whatever they've done in this very bed they're sitting on. Whatever boundaries they've crossed, whatever parts of Junhui he's unravelled that no one else has ever seen; parts of the other male that he keeps—or, more accurately, _kept_ —beside his heart, locked away deep in his mind so that only he may know the barest forms of _Wen Junhui._ Whether that be early in the morning when Junhui has no makeup on, sleepily scratching his tummy as it grumbles while he waddles into the kitchen and rests his chin on Minghao's shoulder, or late, late at night when their only witnesses are the moon and the midnight blue sky, when Junhui whimpers under Minghao, so soft and pliant and so open, so beautiful _just for him_.

He's sure Junhui doesn't mean to do it, doesn't mean to be overwhelmingly yet so subtly affectionate. The worst part is, he can't tell if he minds or not. It makes something warm curl in his sternum, sometimes tight and coiled, sometimes loose and fuzzy. 

In the good or the bad way, Minghao's not very sure.

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got this up JSJSHSJS i've been super duper busy this past month but they gave us three days off so i wrote this up yayy :D along with being v v busy i've also had severe writer's block which doesn't help much surprisingly omg :0

Minghao's friends, as he has grown to notice, are even louder and rowdier than he remembers.

For the weekend, they had arranged a sleepover party at Minghao and Junhui's (despite being fully grown men in their late twenties) in celebration of Minghao being released from the hospital after a month of being there. As they were watching a movie (Cinderella, courtesy of Chan) the power went out and Junhui had scurried to the kitchen drawers in favor of getting some candles.

Rather than whispering quietly and having quaint little conversations in the dark, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and the new kid Seokmin keep singing trot at the top of their lungs, Seungkwan and Seokmin butchering the vocals despite their noticeably impressive vocal chords while Soonyoung butchers the dance despite his superiority in it.

Mingyu's light lisp hasn't gone away and it becomes much more prominent when he joins the trio in their incessant shrieking (which makes Wonwoo stare at Mingyu with a look of molten gold in his eyes, and Minghao just finds it downright _disgusting)._

Hansol keeps saying things like "as lit as these candles" which makes Jisoo cackle until he hits his head on a the table behind where he's sitting, and Jihoon, at one point, almost murders Mingyu with a whole guitar which, ultimately, leads Minghao to believe that his friends have become more of a hot mess than he remembers.

The new kids, Seokmin and Chan, are actually really cool people. Chan's Soonyoung's coworker and Seokmin's, surprisingly, dating Jisoo. If Minghao were to pick anyone in their friendship group as the most romantically stunted and downright emotionally constipated, he'd pick Jisoo. Apparently not, though. Minghao's actually dealing with life a lot worse than Jisoo is (not surprisingly, to be honest).

As it turns out too, some of his friends lives have turned out not quite the way he expected it to. Mingyu's the executive assistant of Park Holding's CEO, always having to adopt a can-do and confident attitude all the time at work which means he's constantly staying late, Hansol volunteers in a pet shelter since the income Seungkwan gets from teaching commercial music at some high end university is more than enough even though Hansol has many job qualifications, Jihoon composes and performs his own songs and is apparently signed to this big entertainment company, and he also helps other artists compose their songs, Wonwoo's an author with a number of best selling books, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol seem to be dating each other.

Earlier, when Minghao had grown bored of Cinderella and asked about the striking dark circles under Mingyu's eyes, he had just smiled tiredly, muttering a "pulled a few too many all nighters this week," into Wonwoo's neck. Only a blind man wouldn't notice the way Wonwoo's gaze softened, tender and warm as he placed a peck on the crown of Mingyu's head. "His boss has been working him to the ground."

When their electricity turns back on after a few shitty horror stories are told, Junhui cheers lightly and stashes the still functioning candles back into the drawer. "So, Cinderella again?" he suggests, making Chan yell (very loudly) in excitement.

That's also something about Junhui. He loves to please. And he's incredibly selfless.

Junhui has just always reminded Minghao of the soft and steady lapping of the sea against the seashore, or the way foam curls around your ankles as your toes sink into the wet sand. He's also lazy days in bed, fuzzy sweaters and the pitter patter of rain against your window. Small, but great things that make you appreciate life just a little bit more.

When Junhui sidles up next to him and tries to get comfortable, curling against the arm of the couch, Minghao takes a mental note for the one-hundredth time that Junhui's really, really, warm. As much as he is figuratively warm, he's a lot more physically warm. Like an electric blanket when it's cold outside or wine beside the fireplace.

"I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable," he mutters rather distractedly, hand glued to the bowl of popcorn between them. For a second, Minghao frowns. Sure, he might not feel for Junhui romantically, but he will always love Junhui nevertheless.

"It doesn't, you're fine." And that's all it takes to make all the tension in Junhui's body dissipate, head plopping onto Minghao's shoulder as if it's the first time he's sat down in days. Even though Junhui's very touchy, Minghao knows he would never try to take advantage of that or do anything he knows Minghao wouldn't be okay with. After all, Junhui is a naturally very affectionate person.

"I thought you'd start hating me. I can't imagine what it feels like to find out that your best friend is suddenly your husband." Junhui's mumbling, which is a clear sign that he's worried but doesn't want to seem dramatic. Minghao's eyebrows knit together. "Never, I could never hate you. You're my best friend and you'll always be important to me."

A loud boom from the movie they have on resounds through the room, painting Junhui's face in white and then red. His eyes glisten under the light and Minghao notices as the apple of Junhui's cheeks are touched with strokes of light pink. He just grins cheekily, basking in the fact that he flustered  _Junhui_ ,  _the_  Junhui, the guy that's supposed to be flirty as fuck and is immune to anything. "Hao, you know, that's really nice and stuff, but you have to stop talking like that."

Minghao hums, teasing. "Like what?"

" _Stop it_."

 

 

 

 

About a week after they'd arranged sleeping positions (Junhui had taken the couch. Minghao insisted strongly against it, but Junhui just nonchalantly flipped the page of a book he was reading, saying, "you're still recovering, Haohao. The couch won't do you any good. Let me do this for you, okay?"), Junhui had talked about treatment with Minghao and they decided he would get therapy. He would see a therapist once a week on Saturdays and they would do some practices to hopefully help with his memory loss.

The therapist had said that, although the sessions they have can help him greatly, support from family and friends is still crucial. Things like certain smells, pictures, or music can help, she said. Also, staying active and mobile will help.

So, to, as his therapist had said, stay active and mobile, Minghao had earlier invited Wonwoo to take a walk with him. He doesn't want to go anywhere too far, so a walk around their housing complex would do. Plus, he doesn't really want to deal with reporters at eight o'clock in the morning. They're persistent, but following him in his living area is a big, fat no.

The air is chilly and crisp this Monday, biting at Minghao's fingertips annoyingly. Wonwoo strolls beside him, all long limbs and broad shoulders, and they fall into a comfortable, rather slow rhythm.

"You know," Wonwoo starts. "You're big news these days." He says it in a way that makes his voice sound deep but not at the same time. Minghao figures that everything Wonwoo says first shakes inside of his chest, vibrating and rumbling in his sternum before sluggishly crawling its way out of his throat. His voice sticks in his ears like the feeling of some sort of pressure change, but Minghao likes it. It's soothing.

"I know," he says simply.

"You had just had a photoshoot for the cover of this famous magazine a few days before the crash. Not to mention, you're a huge public figure. Everyone was, and now is talking about you."

At Wonwoo's words, Minghao's head drops. He doesn't reply for a bit, just letting the wind rustle his long jet black hair as his legs stretch out one after the other in front of him. "I know," he says again.

"But," Wonwoo pauses. "Does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

Idly, Wonwoo kicks a pebble. "I just feel like you're being forced to walk in someone else's shoes. Like—you're Korea and China's most renowned model, married to your best friend, you have people at your beck and call all day, every day, and all your friends' lives have changed so much. Isn't it weird, Minghao?"

He hums at that. He should find it weird. He should be disturbed and frantic, but he isn't. Somehow, he's just glad he's got the most understanding and nice people to go through this with. He's not freaked out because he knows he'll be just fine. Sure, because of his amnesia he feels rather uncoordinated and confused at times, but it's nothing he can't deal with.

"No. You know, what? I'm not. Not at all. I've still got my friends with me, my manager said that I can take two, maybe three months off to settle things out, and yeah, I'm married to my best friend, but it's better to be married to my best friend rather than to some stranger. Honestly, Junhui's the best person to go through this with."

Wonwoo laughs and shakes his head fondly. He pats Minghao's back, gentle, making it a sort of tap rather than a pat. "Junhui's at work right?" he says.

Minghao nods, and Wonwoo's brows knit together just a bit before he says, "I just want you to know, Hao, sometimes Junhui has some really bad days at work. Like, for example, when an animal that they've been taking care of for ages just doesn't make it in the end, stuff like that. Whenever those things happen, Junhui takes the biggest hit. He'll always think it's his fault, that he could've done something better. It's nothing that he can help or stop, and he would always close himself up whenever it happens. There have been way too many times when he would miss meals because he's just always hunched over some desk, studying to make sure he can get better. When that happens, try your best to take care of him alright? He keeps pushing himself too hard, it's driving me insane."

Wonwoo's words curl uncomfortably in his sternum. They turn into tight, tight knots that feel way too hard to loosen up. It brings with it some sort of burden that sits heavy on Minghao's chest, pushing down and making his breaths feel a tiny bit short. "Sure," he just says a little breathlessly.

Later, when Wonwoo waves him goodbye and they part ways, the sky's already bleeding into a deep shade of orange. If Minghao looks hard enough, he can see pinks and reds swimming together. Maybe, if Junhui's not too tired, he could get him to stargaze with him later.

He steps onto their driveway, eyeing the few wilting plants of theirs with disdain. They don't look very well. Minghao'll just take care of them tomorrow.

He opens their front door with a few curt knocks to it, shoving his shoes off and calling out an "I'm home! Are you?"

A loud laugh booms from the kitchen, then suddenly Junhui pops out, donning an apron with a spatula in hand. "Yeah, I am! Get changed and have a seat. Dinner's almost ready."

His coat rolls off of his shoulders and onto their coat rack. He runs a hand through his hair and hums. "I didn't know they let you off work this early."

"Well, I mean," Junhui switches the stove off, a click resonating through the house as he does so. He shrugs. "They don't usually, no. I asked them to let me finish a bit earlier because usually it would be either you or me that cooks, but you're in no state to cook and I didn't have time this morning. Plus, I wanted to make it a nice dinner because it's our first homemade dinner since you've been discharged."

"And they just... let you?"

"I may or may not have promised my boss free copies of your magazines."

Minghao laughs, foot stepping onto the tiles of their bathroom. "Wouldn't have expected any less."

Junhui cooks up some bulgogi, japchae and seolleongtang for the both of them, and as Junhui happily sips at his red wine, Minghao has to drink his sad glass of water because he needs to take his meds. Minghao mentally scoffs. Fucking meds.

To distract Minghao from his pathetic glass of nonalcoholic mineral water, he asks Junhui about how his day went, absentmindedly trailing his long finger along the edge of his glass. Junhui responds animatedly, gesturing and making amusing facial expressions. "So this woman brought in this wounded little kitten, right? Like, seriously it was in such bad condition and she just said she found it in the streets, so I had to quickly treat it because it was so tiny and young, and at first I was worried because what if this lady just puts it back in the streets to fend for itself? But then I asked and she said she was going to take it in, and I also helped a bunch of other animals out, so today was pretty good!"

A ghost of a fond smile is ever present on Minghao's lips as he listens to Junhui's ranting, happy that the older male is happy. "How about you, huh?" Junhui asks, shoveling a spoonful of bulgogi into his mouth. "How did your day go?"

Minghao looks at the ceiling in thought. "I talked a lot with Wonwoo today. We walked around and eventually got bored so we put on some face masks and went to a nearby cafe. Nothing too interesting, just catching up on what I missed."

"That's boring." Junhui pouts.

Minghao raises his hands in surrender and a stray drop of soy sauce flicks to Junhui's face. "I'm sorry my life is so uneventful, your honor."

Junhui flinches back and laughs in surprise, wiping at his cheeks with a finger. "Really, Minghao? Really?"

He watches as Junhui fusses over his face, and Minghao hears him whine an "it got in my eye!" Minghao just laughs. "Hey, Jun," he calls, and Junhui's attention is all on him now. "Stargaze with me?"

Later, when they're maneuvering their way through the upstairs bedroom window, blankets and a bottle of wine in hand, Minghao feels like a silly teenager all over again. He's taken back to when he was thirteen years old, rebellious and reckless, sneaking on his roof with some girl he crushed on and trying not to wake his parents up. Back then, he felt brave, he felt manly, but now he just feels calm. No urgency nor misplaced euphoria, just him, Junhui and the starlit sky.

Junhui sets a blanket over both their shoulders and keeps the bottle of wine in his hands. Minghao stares quite blatantly at Junhui's pyjamas that he now realises are slightly sheer. He tips the wine glass back, sharp Adam's apple becoming more prominent as he takes in a big mouthful of the wine. "Is there a reason you brought me up here?"

"Not necessarily," Minghao answers. "But there are no clouds out. It's a great opportunity to watch the stars." Junhui smiles and chuckles a bit, dropping his head. "Sounds about right."

"How so?"

"Well," Junhui downs another big gulp of wine, "you always admired the galaxy and the universe and everything in between. Said you wanted to become an astronomer if the modeling thing didn't work out. You remember, right?"

Minghao nods, because he does. When he was in college, he was astounded by just the idea of space. He would always borrow astronomy books from the library even if he wasn't majoring in it, and to pass the time when he was bored, he would read and read and read. More than one time he'd fallen asleep at his desk because he'd stayed up too late reading them, up until the point where Junhui threatened to shove the books up his ass if he didn't cut it out.

Junhui then starts talking about some dumb shit he and Minghao did when they were in college, but Minghao doesn't listen. Instead, he analyses Junhui's features, noting all the striking changes that have happened in six years. For one, Junhui's jaw is a lot sharper, but his cheeks are plumper than before. It's not exactly the type of plump that comes with gaining weight, but the plump that comes with being healthy. Minghao also knows that healthy skin is tinted slightly red, but he notes that Junhui's cheeks aren't red because he's just simply healthy, instead they're red because he's lightly buzzed as well.

Junhui chugs another big gulp, muttering something under his breath as he laughs at something he said. Minghao drinks everything in almost as vigorously as Junhui drinks his wine. The way Junhui's voice is slightly velvety and softer, the way his legs are longer, the way his hair is fluffier, the way everything about Junhui is either slightly enhanced or slightly dulled down in the best way. He hasn't taken the time to examine just how Junhui's changed, and now that he has, he feels some sort of sensory overload. Junhui drinks some wine again.

"You know," he suddenly pipes up, "you are  _very_  pretty, and  _very_  handsome, and I love you  _very_ ,  _very much_ ," Junhui leans back, sipping his wine, "but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable,  _no I don't_. So I am trying very hard to keep my hands to myself, did you know that? But you just make it so hard, Haohao." Junhui smacks his arm twice.

"And that," Minghao raises his eyebrows, chuckling as he swiftly grabs the bottle of wine from Junhui's hands. He whines and leans into Minghao to get it back but gives up halfway and just drapes himself over him, "is enough wine for you."

He sighs and arranges one of the blankets to form a pillow, then plops back, and Minghao follows but leans on his elbows. It's quiet for a moment, and Minghao can almost convince himself that he can hear all the crickets and the grasshoppers, all the birds and the rats and the wind rustling in his ear. "The stars are nice tonight, aren't they?" Junhui asks quietly.

"They sure are."

His head lolls to the side and he peers up at Minghao. Junhui stares at him like that for several minutes before he starts frowning dramatically, reaching up and squeezing his cheeks together, then he starts to pat it for good measure. " _So,_  so handsome."

"Wow, okay, you have low tolerance. We should head inside now." Grabbing ahold of Junhui's hand to stop the incessant patting, he gathers the blankets and the wine bottle and pulls Junhui inside, placing the hand that was holding the other's on Junhui's lower back to make sure he doesn't fall and crack his head open.

Light hits Junhui's face and, honestly, he's a sight for sore eyes. A pink blush has spread like wildfire in a forest from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck, his eyes hazy and bright, hair tousled by the wind, and his grin is bright and boyish and it makes him look a thousand times younger. 

"You know what would be a good idea, Haohao? We should visit the animal shelter that Hansollie works at on the weekend and maybe we could help around a little over there, I heard from him the other day that they could use a hand and I figured it would be nice if we could—"

And that's just Junhui. Always, always, always giving, without expecting anything in return.

"Sure, Junnie, that sounds real nice. Now why don't you head to bed? It's late."

He leads Junhui to the bedroom and makes him lay down, and did—did Minghao just hear a giggle? "Okay, Haohao. You sleep tight."

Junhui always laughs freely, just because he wants to. Junhui always talks boisterously, just because he wants to. Junhui always jokes gleefully, just because he wants to. Junhui always gives fully, just because he wants to. And Junhui always loves selflessly, just because he wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully i can get the next chapter up quicker than i did with this one. tell me what u think i lov reading your opinions on this :D<3

**Author's Note:**

> pleasepleaseplease tell me what you think in the comments! i love reading what you guys think about it and what i can improve on, so don't hesitate to point out any mistakes either! if you did enjoy, kudos will also be appreciated <3


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